Surviving Helen
by DeniseV
Summary: Or How a Whole Lotta Stubborn Trumps a Bit of Bad Luck.  A continuation of the episode The Fifth Victim.


This story continues on from the last scene in the episode "The Fifth Victim", after Heyes says to his partner, with more bravado than he really felt, "You worry about staying on your horse and I'll worry about staying on mine."

* * *

Though they had taken their horses out from the Carlson homestead at a slow, easy trot, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, within half a mile, had eased them back into a well-paced walk. Curry looked to the left at his friend. Heyes was putting on a good front, but it was pretty obvious to the reforming gunslinger that his partner was still out of sorts from the bullet he took to his head just days before. The blond half of the former outlaw duo doubted that the stagecoach ride would be all that much more comfortable, or less uncomfortable, than riding horses, but with both the doctor and Heyes conspiring against him, Kid knew he'd be on the losing end of that fight.

But he felt obliged to take another shot anyway. "You know, the Carlsons would probably let us stay on a day or two longer," Kid, also known as Thaddeus Jones, said to his ailing friend.

"I'm fine," Heyes, alias Joshua Smith, answered, his reply short, more concerned about keeping his head as steady as possible than he was at making conversation. It was a loud warning sign to the Kid, in spite of the disarming quiet coming from his friend.

"We could take a room at the hotel for a coupla days," Curry tried again.

"Naw, waste of our hard-earned money, Kid." Heyes listed a bit in his saddle as he replied. Apparently, concentrating on staying upright _and_ talking didn't really mix. Curry placed his hand on Heyes' shoulder and righted him. He received a warm, dimpled smile in return and a simple, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I thought I wasn't supposed to worry about you fallin' outta your saddle?"

"I ain't gonna lie to ya, Kid. It's takin' more concentration than I care to admit."

"That's what I figured." Heyes caught Kid's worried look.

"It's just an hour's ride. I'll be fine," the older one of the duo assured his partner.

"I dunno. Seems to me you need to check the dictionary definition of 'fine'," Curry replied cleverly.

"Ha. Ha. That's funny."

They continued on their ride to town in silence. It was a clear indication of how lousy Hannibal Heyes really felt when he didn't have something to say, about anything, anytime, anywhere. Curry and Heyes, born cousins, had been best friends all their lives, and partners for all of their adult lives. Kid Curry had endured listening to his friend's ramblings – on topics both large and small, on subjects both fascinating and mundane – for any number of easy canters heading from one town to the next, as well as on hard gallops running from posses and outlaws, both during their successful, and sometimes nearly not successful times on the wrong side of the law, as well as during this time while they worked legitimate jobs and steered clear of robbing and stealing in order to earn the governor's amnesty. Yes, Hannibal Heyes was a talker, but not this day. And despite all of those times where Kid would have given his…_left_ arm just to get his friend to shut up for a few minutes of peace and quiet, he found that at least on this day, it was downright 'disconcerting', a word he'd picked up on the meaning of from a recent, and long-winded discussion. It had been a mostly one-sided discussion about the way the sheriff in La Sal Junction, a stop-over on their way to deliver a package to their destination in the town of Paradox, Colorado, had been looking at them on their second, and, reluctantly, final day there. It had been a long, hard journey by horse and stage from Price, Utah. They had hoped to spend several days in the small town just west of the Colorado border to rest up before the final leg of their trip. Instead, Kid just ended up adding a new word to his ever-increasing vocabulary.

"Heyes?" Kid asked, about forty-five minutes into their hour-or-so-long 'walk' into town. "Y'all right?" Heyes had his head down, chin to chest. He wasn't watching the road, definitely not alert, though they both felt safe enough in Hollistown to not need to be on any heightened state of awareness, at least not now that the mystery was solved about who had been shooting the players in the poker game, including the resulting deep graze that Heyes had taken and had left him unconscious for most of two whole days. Unconscious was far better than dead, though, like the other four. They were, after all, friendly now with Sheriff Moody here, as very strange as that seemed. This ride to town proved beyond any doubt that Heyes was hurting; all of the signs said so.

"I'll be better once I get offa this horse." Kid smiled and shook his head. They really had to be two of the most stubborn men in the West. It explained a lot about how they'd survived their difficult childhoods, as well as their former, dangerous professions and their current sometimes complicated and regularly challenged efforts to steer clear of the law and just stay alive.

"We can take the stagecoach headin' out day after tomorrow. We're not in any hurry, are we?"

Heyes lifted his head and looked at the Kid. He blinked his eyes and squinted slightly, as though trying to focus.

"Heyes?"

The man in the black Stetson lifted his right hand to stop his friend's worrying. "I raised my head too fast. It's okay. The doc said I might get dizzy for a while still. He also said it'd be okay for me to take the stage. I'd like to move on," he smiled, knowing that the Kid wouldn't deny him.

Curry reached his arm over and patted his friend's back warmly. "Fine. We'll do it your way. But we're gettin' ya a pillow for the ride."

"A pillow?" Heyes countered loudly, offended by the mere suggestion. He winced, his own loud voice causing him pain. He rubbed his head, jostling his hat briefly, leaving it to sit up on his forehead. The band chafed his injury, so he pushed it back down carefully. "I'm not a baby."

"Well, that depends on the day." Heyes looked at him sourly at the smart comment. "And you're not a pregnant lady, either. That don't mean you shouldn't be as comfortable as possible."

"Your shoulder's good enough for me, but if you think somethin' else is needed, you go right ahead and take care of that. I'm going to find me a place to sit still while we wait." There remained a good fifteen minutes to ride until they made it to town and already Heyes was planning where he'd park himself to wait for the stage.

Definitely stubborn. And always planning, even for the small stuff.

They made it to the edge of town without either one of them falling off of their horse. They stopped at the livery and got a decent deal on their horses and saddles and then headed to the stagecoach office with their gear. Kid noticed that his partner was really dragging. He looked ahead and saw the sign for the stagecoach. Just before it stood the general store, with a bench positioned in front, unoccupied.

Curry knocked his elbow into his friend's arm. "Why don't you take a seat here while I go in and buy our tickets?"

Heyes looked up one storefront to see the seating in front of the stagecoach office. "There's a place to sit over there, waiting for the stage. I'll wait for you there."

"No. This one's covered." It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon. They had both worked up a bit of a sweat getting to town. Curry didn't care much for how pale his partner currently looked, either. Sitting in the hot sun wasn't going to help him feel any better. "Plus, I need to pick up some supplies. I'll come back here and getcha when I'm done shoppin'."

"You buyin' me a pillow?" Heyes asked in jest.

"The prettiest, frilliest one I can find."

Heyes smiled indulgently, ready to take whatever the Kid came up with. He sat down with a heavy sigh, stretched out his legs, folded his right ankle over his left, and tipped his hat down over his face. He folded his arms across his chest and said, "Wake me when you're ready." The blond partner laughed as he headed away.

Curry hurried to fetch the tickets, taking time to review the route carefully on the map tacked to the wall next to the office, and then came back to the general store. Heyes was in the same position he'd left him in. The Kid smiled. Hannibal Heyes wasn't much for sleeping. He always said it was a waste of valuable time. Rather, he used time on the stagecoach and trains to catch up on the bad or completely missed sleep he always experienced out on the trail. He slept a little better in hotels, but hotels somehow, of late, had not been their number one sleep accommodation.

Jedediah 'Kid' Curry stepped into the store; he felt like a little kid every time he did. He loved a good general store. In fact, it was something he felt he had some special expertise in, third in line only to his expertise with a gun and his expertise in all things 'Heyes'.

One thing the Kid had learned for sure over the years was that some general stores were better than others. The best of them were always fully stocked with such a great variety of objects to buy: colorful fabric, candies, fancy bags for the ladies, vests for dressing up for the men, hats and gloves, canned goods, books and dime novels; sundries too numerous to bother with counting. This one had a fine selection of produce, a rarity for sure. Kid thought he could easily settle down to running a store like this one day. His partner would be great at it, too. There was little Heyes liked better than being with people. It was out on the trail, when they couldn't afford, be it monetarily-speaking, or because of other possible expected dangers lurking around the corner or at the local sheriff's office to spend time in a town, that Heyes got most proddy. Curry understood why his friend would be disagreeable after a long time away from a civilized town: days, sometimes weeks without a bath, a decent meal, a good drink, a beautiful woman, or a fine, challenging poker game would put any man off his feed. But somehow Heyes needed that contact – the people contact – far more than he himself ever did. It was just his friend's nature. Either running a store, or a saloon: one day, he hoped they'd be in a position to make dreams like that come true.

Kid selected a couple of snacks for later. Heyes had slept through breakfast and only picked at the delicious lunch that Rachel had prepared for them, his head still more in control of things than his stomach.

"Excuse me," Kid said to the gentleman behind the counter. He was an older fellow, or at least he seemed to be, his skin wrinkled from the sun – he'd obviously not been a storekeeper all his life. A full mop of gray hair made him look older than his years as well.

"Sure, young man. What kin ah do fahr you?" The accent was strange. English? Maybe, with a whole lot of the American West in tone and inflection.

"I was lookin' for a pillow. Didn't see any around."

"Ah. Well, ya saw right. None left." The storekeeper saw the disappointment in the curly-headed blond's face. "Tell ya what. You want this fahr the stage, right? Fahr your friend?"

"How…"

The older man waved the Kid off with a laugh. "I saw you dump him out o' the bench. Should he be traveling? He seemed a tad wobbly."

"A 'tad wobbly' is a right good way to put it, sir. He probably shouldn't, but if I can't convince him of that, ain't nobody can."

"I'm sure you'll watch out fahr 'im," the old man said.

"It's what I do," Curry replied with a warm smile.

"Let me go in the back and see what Jenny can rustle up. She sews, and the stage won't leave for another half hour or so."

"I appreciate that. I'll go get Joshua and move him over to the seats by the stagecoach office."

"You'll do no such thing, young man. He's resting comfortably. Leave 'im be. Don't bother 'im 'til ya hafta."

"Thank you. Again." Curry was impressed with how hospitable everyone in the town had been to them since they'd arrived. Hollistown was a place they could come back to, Kid thought, once they'd received their amnesty.

"Give me a shout if anyone comes in," the shop owner yelled as he headed for the back room.

"Uh…you bet!" the Kid called back, feeling a little uncomfortable at being left in charge. Less than five minutes later, the shopkeeper returned.

"Jenny's fixing up something fahr your friend."

"That's real nice of ya. How much will I owe you?" the Kid asked. His experience had been that custom-made things always cost more. He and Heyes had always taken some of their illicitly earned income to replace any worn duds and accessories with quality wear and gear. They had learned it was worth it to pay a little more, but he liked to know in advance what it would set them back.

"Naw! It's on the house. Jenny has pieces o' this and bits' o' that. You're helping me by getting some o' the bric-a-brac outta here."

Kid laughed and then said, "Glad to be of service, then. We travel a lot, so we don't collect much. Thank you, again."

"Jenny and I…" the shopkeeper started. "I'm Joe Newberry, by the way," he interrupted his train of thought to introduce himself.

"Good to meet ya, Joe." The two men shook hands. "I'm Thaddeus Jones. My friend is…"

"Joshua. You mentioned his name…hold on a minute. You're the two boys who've been helping Jake Carlson with the cougars."

Kid smiled. "That's us."

Joe's smile faded some. "Your friend's the one the doc's been out to see."

"Yeah."

"Doc's a friend o' mine. He wouldn't say Joshua could ride the stage if he shouldn't." Joe looked at Curry seriously. "Your friend's lucky to have just been hurt."

"I'm sure you're right, Joe. But we rode into town on horseback and it near wiped him out." Kid's face grew serious, too, as he added, "And we both feel pretty lucky right about now." That knowledge didn't seem to settle the young man any.

Joe looked at the man before him, sizing him up; it was something at which a good shopkeeper needed to excel. "And you're a worrier," he noted.

"Truth be told, my partner's the worrier. I just…"

"Worry about your partner," a female voice said from behind. Both men turned to see Jenny Newberry walking towards them, 'pillow' in hand.

"My wife, Mr. Jones," Joe began the introduction, his face changing from that of the open and personable shopkeeper to a man years in love with his woman. Joe's huge smile and twinkling eyes were infectious. "Thaddeus Jones, the loveliest lady in the entire valley, Jenny Newberry."

"Stop that," Jenny said to her husband as she slapped him playfully on his arm. "He really is quite adept at the hyperbole. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jones."

"I'm not sure I know what that hyperbole is, but if it means you're the prettiest thing around, then I'd have to agree." Kid could see past the graying hair and the just barely showing lines on her face that she'd have turned his head for sure in her youth.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Men." She looked beyond her husband and their customer to get a look at Heyes through the window. "Your friend?" she asked.

"Joshua Smith. Yep, that's him out there, lazing around."

"Rachel told me that he was badly hurt, and thoroughly charming."

Kid Curry smiled a wry smile. "Joshua is right charming, ma'am," he said, a slight hint of sarcasm showing through, "though I admit I ain't never seen him charm the ladies much when he's been unconscious for so much of the time."

"I'm sure that you don't see it as much in each other. Men can be quite blind to the special qualities of other men." Jenny watched Kid's reaction, seeing in his face that he knew how special his friend really was, certainly to him. "Rachel said that you were very worried for your friend."

Kid lowered his head, his smile at meeting Joe's wife quickly faded. "I, um, was very worried." He appeared almost embarrassed at the admission.

Jenny smiled at the confession, a declaration which was unusual in her experience with other young men she had met, especially in the nine plus years since they'd moved their mercantile business out west. "It's obvious that he means a great deal to you. That you would look out for his comfort probably says more than you want it to."

"Well, thank you, ma'am. I do admit, however, that I am somewhat disappointed," he said as he reached for the object in her hand.

"Oh," Jenny said, her own disillusionment at the young man's acknowledgment evident. "It's not what you were hoping?" Joe walked over to stand by his wife, not happy with this turn of events.

"Oh, no ma'am. This will work just fine. It's just…"

"What, Mr. Jones? I took care to use as much cotton as I could find. It gets hot on the stage this time of year. And I found a nice piece of cotton cloth for the outside. Solid, dark blue. Not too feminine."

The 'kid' in Kid Curry became obvious to the Newberrys as the blond explained, "And that's exactly the problem, ma'am. I was hopin' for some flowers. A few frills. Maybe some tassels," he added, pointing to the corners, suggesting where the shopkeeper's wife might have added the dangly, showy additions. Jenny smiled, but also shook her head, and her husband laughed heartily.

"Oh, Mr. Jones. You are terrible." She looked at her husband, who was now laughing like a crazed hyena. "Stop it, Joe. You'll just encourage him to do more of the same in the future." The Kid and the shopkeeper continued to laugh. Jenny finally started to laugh along with the other two. She rolled her eyes and said with feigned exasperation, "Men!" Kid figured that was an exclamation that came from Jenny Newberry's mouth often, with Joe around. The two men in the store laughed even more at her reaction.

Kid paid his bill as they finally all simmered down. Jenny walked up to him.

"Shouldn't all of this fuss we've made in here have woken your friend?"

"Oh, he's not sleeping, ma'am" Kid explained. "He's resting, but if I know Joshua as well as I think I do, he's got a big smile on his face listening to all this laughter. I'm sure it's done him good."

"I hope you're right," she said worriedly.

"Despite the…troubles we encountered here, we really like your town. You and your husband have been kind, the sheriff, the doc, the Carlsons. I hope we get a chance to come back sometime."

"That would be nice," Jenny agreed.

"You're always welcome back. Jake had only good things to say about you boys."

"Thanks, Joe. Mr. Carlson was a good employer and a good friend." Kid looked from Joe to Jenny, and then turned when he heard the stagecoach pull up. "Well, be seein' ya."

"Bye," the Newberrys said together, a couple clearly in synch with one another. Kid hoped that Jake and Rachel Carlson would soon be back to similar happiness.

Kid Curry left the store with his sack of supplies and his pillow and took a seat next to Hannibal Heyes on the bench.

"Didya have fun in there?" Heyes asked without moving from his spot, a smile visible beneath the brim of his hat as it still covered his face.

"I thought for a minute you might actually have taken the chance for a short nap while you were out here," Kid replied.

"Nope," Heyes answered as he lifted his hat off of his face and placed it back on his head.

"I did know better."

"I know ya did, Kid." Heyes looked at the soft square in his partner's hand, and then looked Kid in the eye. "That for me?"

"Yeah." Curry reluctantly handed it over.

"Hm. Not exactly frilly and flowery. Looks like it mighta been made with a man in mind."

"Knock it off. I know you heard us inside."

Heyes' smile widened. "Seem like nice people." The former leader of the Devil's Hole Gang glanced over to the stagecoach. "Looks like our ride is here." The still hurting outlaw pushed himself off of the bench, and immediately fell into the Kid's arms. Curry had sensed just that result was coming and he'd jumped up right as his friend tipped over towards him. "Sorry," Heyes murmured as he pushed away from the Kid and tried to get his bearings. Curry held his arm until Heyes gave him some sign that he wouldn't tumble to the ground.

"Nothin' to be sorry for. You okay?"

"A little woozy is all."

"Joe thought you seemed a 'tad wobbly'."

"That description works, too," Heyes agreed as he started to walk. "I'm okay."

"Maybe you should have a little something to eat. You haven't eaten much since you got shot."

"Yeah, well, I think it would be best for the other passengers if I wait until we make our next destination," Heyes explained.

"The fella in the office said there was just one other passenger so far."

"Even still…"

"Mr. Smith!" Jenny Newberry rushed up to the two men carrying a large mug in her hands, a small sack dangling from her arm.

"Howdy, ma'am," Heyes said, tipping his hat in gentlemanly fashion.

"Hello, Mr. Jones," Jenny said, looking to him for a proper introduction.

"Mrs. Newberry, Joshua Smith. Joshua, Jenny Newberry is the wife of the owner of the general store."

"Mr. Smith, I had some soup on and I really do think you should have something in your stomach for your journey. There's a nice piece of fresh bread wrapped for you as well."

Heyes tried to keep the smile on his face, but the thought of food just that second was working hard at churning his stomach.

"Mrs. Newberry, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not real hungry right…"

"Mr. Smith. Rachel Carlson is a dear friend and she told me she'd been unable to get you to eat much. I know that you don't _feel_ like eating, but it will do you good. You can take it with you and try a little at a time."

"Well, thank you. Of course, I'll have half of it in my lap before we make it out of town. The stage isn't exactly a smooth ride."

"Nah, that ain't gonna be a problem," Kid said as he took the mug from Heyes' hand and downed near a third of the soup in one long draft. Jenny Newberry and Hannibal Heyes looked at him as though he'd lost his marbles. "What? Now you can take your time and it won't spill on ya."

"Why, thank you. That's very thoughtful of you, Thaddeus."

"And the soup is delicious, Joshua. You'll want to try some," Kid suggested.

"He'll want to eat it all, Mr. Jones," Jenny Newberry warned.

"He should, and I'll do my best to encourage him. But I'd be remiss to allow something so good to go to waste," Curry replied politely.

"Thaddeus never saw a plate of food that he didn't love, Mrs. Newberry. But I can vouch for the fact that his compliment is true. I promise to give it a try."

"I'm pleased to hear it. Rachel will be happy as well." She looked at the two handsome young men and then said, "Well. Have a safe trip."

"Thank you," Heyes answered first.

"Thank you, ma'am," Kid followed.

As Jenny Newberry returned to the general store, Heyes and Curry handed their gear up to the driver, save for the pillow, their snacks and Mrs. Newberry's meal for the ailing one of the pair. They took seats next to one another, facing forward. Kid knew that even with the pillow, Heyes would still lean against his shoulder during their trip. It was one of the reasons Heyes was actually able to get some decent sleep on a stagecoach, as though having the Kid right there under him Heyes could still protect him, even in slumber.

"You gonna eat this?" Kid asked. Heyes took the mug from his partner, raised it to his nose, and took a sniff. He moved his head away, too fast, closing his eyes to try to steady everything whirling about, and handed the soup to his friend. Heyes rubbed his forehead, took a couple of cleansing, calming breaths to help settle his stomach, and then rested his head on the pillow, leaned up against the Kid's shoulder.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm gonna try to sleep."

"So?" Kid asked, anticipation evident in his voice.

"It's all yours, Kid," Heyes returned, humor still clear despite the tired sound to his voice.

"Ah, you're missin' somethin', Heyes."

"Don't eat my bread. I'll try some later." Curry started in on the soup. Heyes groaned unhappily. Kid stopped and looked over at his friend. He noted slight moisture on Heyes' forehead. It didn't have to mean anything; it was a hot day, after all.

"You all right?"

"Head hurts. Dizzy. Smellin' the soup…"

"I'll have it done in no time."

"I have no doubt," Heyes returned affectionately.

It was two minutes past three o'clock and the stage had not yet pulled out. Kid finished his soup and looked around for the driver. No one was around, so he tapped Heyes on his arm.

"Mmm?"

"Sit up a minute. We shoulda left by now. I'm gonna go see what's the hold up."

"Interesting turn of phrase," Heyes noted with a wide yawn. Curry smiled; his partner's sense of humor was still in tact, but he was obviously ready for some sleep.

"I'm going to go see what's up. Is that better?" he asked as he set the pillow behind his friend's head. "Put your head back."

"Oh. Nice."

"Be right back."

Curry stepped from the coach and went into the office. "Pardon me. Is there a problem?"

"We're waiting on the other passenger," the man behind the ticket counter offered.

"How long we gonna wait? Should we get out?"

"Nah. We're gonna wait another five minutes. Got a schedule to keep."

"Okay. I'm headin' next door for just a minute. Don't leave without me."

"If you're gone a minute it won't be a problem. I can even give ya five," the ticket master countered smartly.

"Thanks," Kid replied sarcastically. He went next door to bring the mug back to the Newberrys. It was a nice, large piece of crockery; he didn't want to risk sending it back with the stage when he was right here to take care of it.

"Hi, Joe," he said as he entered. Joe noticed the cup in his hand.

"Joshua wasn't havin' any, eh?"

"No. He's really not feelin' very good."

"Why're you still here?"

"Stagecoach is delayed. Waitin' on a passenger…"

"Ah! Looks like he arrived," Joe noted, pointing out the window. "You best get goin'. Pete Horton is not one to delay long."

"So he told me," Kid said as he hurried out. "So long!"

Curry quickly walked over to the stage and heard an argument going on inside.

"No," Heyes retorted calmly. "My friend and I were here first. We're staying in these seats." He said it as the other man stood in the doorway trying to get past him to sit _next_ to him, in Kid's seat.

"I don't like sitting backwards on the stage. It makes me sick," the stocky, sweaty man said. "Do you want to risk that?"

"No, I don't. But the fact is, if you sit right close to the window there, you'll have a nice place to take care of that."

"That makes no sense. You'd rather risk me getting sick all over you than just switch seats and avoid it altogether?" The man held a distinct hint of whiskey about him. Heyes and Curry figured the 'sickness' would as easily be caused by that than by riding backwards.

"Mister, my friend here took a bullet to the head a couple of days ago," Kid explained plainly. "He's been given clearance to ride the stage, but only on this side." It wasn't true that they'd been told that, but common sense said that it would be an easier ride on his partner if they faced that way; it was why they'd both selected that side in the first place.

"What's goin' on?" the driver asked. "We got to get this stage movin'. Take your seats."

Kid pushed the larger man to the opposite seat from where Heyes was situated. The man fell into the cushioned bench on the far side of the coach, his choice made for him. The Kid's partner lowered his crossed leg and allowed Curry to take the seat next to the window. Kid grabbed the pillow and repositioned it so that Heyes could drop his head to the Kid's shoulder. The bruise was still vivid on Heyes' left temple; the man opposite saw it finally for the first time, and remained quiet about his seat.

"We're outta here, Pete!" the driver called to the manager.

"Have a good trip," Pete replied as the stagecoach finally headed out of town, close to ten minutes behind schedule.

Heyes took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face and then settled against his partner. They were just out of the town center when the other passenger spoke.

"He doesn't look so good," the man sitting opposite Heyes commented.

"He don't feel so good, either," Heyes mumbled. Kid just gave the man the inscrutable look that he'd mastered over the years fending off would-be fast draws.

"I…I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just…you know…concerned," the man continued nervously after receiving the steely look from the one next to the window, the sharp glare of the piercing blue eyes making him feel mighty uncomfortable.

"Well, it's no concern of yours," Kid said plainly.

"No, I agree. It's not. It's just…" he started, but seemed to think twice about continuing.

"It's just what?" Curry asked.

"I…uh…well…I used to be the doctor in this town…"

Heyes lifted his head slightly and then blinked his eyes open to get another look at the man. He'd have never taken him for a doctor, and he felt lucky that he hadn't had to rely on this man to tend to him immediately following the shooting. The man had clearly fallen on hard times, by the smell of him the drink most likely the culprit in that downfall. His frayed clothes and sole-worn boots said he hadn't spent money on much other than booze in quite a long time.

Curry felt his friend's movement. "Joshua, just rest," he said with an edge to his voice, ready to fight with his still-healing cousin if he had to. But his partner didn't argue this time as he set his head back down on the shoulder which was nicely cushioned by Jenny Newberry's hand-made pillow. To the former physician, Kid said, "Doc said he was good to ride the stage. My friend wanted to move on. End of story."

"Okay. Fine. I didn't mean any offense."

"None taken." The conversation was done as Kid looked out over the passing scenery. The valley was a rugged one, the contours of the rocky mounts and the wild grasses, mixed with small spots of thick forest a perfect combination at the edge of the mountains' foothills to have lured the large cats they had been so well paid to kill out to civilization. It was country more suited to ranching than to sod busting, but there were some brave farmers in this valley, giving the hard job of clearing fields of rocks and planting crops a try. It was why the Kid had been able to include a couple of carrots in their stash of snacks.

It was pretty country, and as the sun continued on its inevitable downward destination to the horizon, the land grew more golden, soothing to the Kid in combination with the surprisingly good suspension of the carriage. He knew that Heyes would have enjoyed the view – his partner was always the first to point out the flight of a hawk or a gnarled tree's beauty as it was backlit by a rising or setting sun - but Curry refrained from rousing the man to catch a look at the landscape's beauty. Certainly they had seen enough in the back country while hunting for the cougars to know that the rest would be equally magnificent. They weren't that far from town yet, and the rest of the ride was sure to get bumpier the farther out they went. And with Heyes comfortably ensconced on his shoulder, and the former doctor keeping his mouth shut…it seemed the ride might not be so bad after all. It might turn out a restful ride for both of them.

Curry had checked the route to see how long they would need to be on the stage; it would be a long day. Or rather, remainder of the day. The late start, three o'clock, or ten past as it turned out, was in fact purposeful in an attempt to try to beat the heat. Unfortunately, the day had turned unseasonably hot, a scorcher, even by this valley's standards considering the time of year, and the heat promised to persist well into the twilight hours. A rest stop just beyond the midway point to Pearl Junction and then the rest of the journey slowed by the roughest section of the route would get them to their next stop just after the last train at seven-thirty that evening, considering their late start and Heyes' slow going. They'd done well working for Jake Carlson, though, and would spend the night comfortably in a better room at Pearl Junction's hotel as they waited for the first train out the following day. That suited Kid Curry just fine; he planned a quick meal for them both, and then expected Heyes would be down for the count quickly thereafter. And after a long day's travel, he'd be ready for a soft bed, too.

About two hours into the trip, the only other passenger besides the two outlaws spoke once more. "You sure you don't want to check on your friend?"

Kid pulled his eyes back into the coach and looked at the man, annoyed. He eyed his partner, who didn't seem bothered by the intrusion into the quiet the way Kid was.

"Why?" he asked. Curry thought about not bothering – the man was a drunk and the Doc had given his blessing for this trip. Heyes was okay, or at least he would be in a few days. Kid knew it was so. Yet…still. What had Mrs. Newberry said? 'Worry about your partner.'

Though it was truly a blessing, this relationship he shared with the man beside him, there were times when it felt like a curse being so close to Hannibal Heyes.

"Well…head injuries. They're tricky." Kid knew that to be true: Heyes hadn't remembered their aliases when he'd woken in Mrs. Carlson's presence. It had turned out worse than that, in fact, with Heyes blabbing their identities, luckily to someone like Rachel Carlson, who was too grateful for what the Kid had done for her husband to ever use that knowledge against them.

"I know," Kid answered tersely.

"Could be concussion. Pressure on the brain…"

"Look, Doctor…" Curry paused, waiting for the drunk to tell him his name.

"Benton. Dr. August Benton." Kid gave him a sidelong, critical stare. "Retired," the physician added at the unsettling glare.

"Dr. Benton, I appreciate what you're sayin'. But my friend is still recovering. We are aware of the things to watch for."

"Oh, well, I'm sure that you are. Dr. Stephens is a good man."

"Yes, he is," Kid agreed.

"I'm sure he told you to check your friend occasionally…" Benton suggested.

"He did. I was gonna wake him at the stop."

"He's sleeping pretty soundly through our conversation." Kid Curry looked down, catching only the top of his cousin's head, the rich dark locks mussed from his hat earlier, and he was bound to have hair flat to his face after resting so soundly, motionlessly, for so long. Kid hated to admit it, but the sleep being so sound, even though Heyes needed it, was worrisome. But he had been assured that waking Heyes every two to three hours was fine. He had been planning to hold out until the rest stop, but their traveling companion had planted the seed of worry to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Joshua," he said, slapping Heyes' thigh to wake his friend. He got no response, but Kid knew that his partner was sleeping deeply. That, combined with the background noise of the stagecoach would easily explain why he hadn't gotten a rise out of the healing man. "Joshua," he said louder. He pushed his elbow into Heyes' side.

A moan and then a slurred, "What?" greeted Kid's efforts, and then Heyes sunk deeper down Curry's arm.

"No, stay awake a minute. How you feelin'?"

"Irritable," Kid's partner answered. "Why'd you wake me?"

"Because the doc said I should."

"Thought we had a rest stop comin' up?" Heyes mumbled into the leather of Curry's jacket.

"Well, we do. But you seemed to be really out of it and I wanted to make sure you weren't going unconscious on me again."

"Kid, you worry too much. I ain't been unconscious for near three, four days."

"Nah, you're gettin' ahead of yourself, partner. It was just two days ago that Sheriff Moody came to question you." Hannibal Heyes looked at his cousin. He blinked a couple of times to try to clear his sleep-heavy eyes. He pushed his hand on the seat, trying to get himself into a more upright position for the rest of this conversation.

"I guess the days all sort of started to blend together there after a bit," Heyes admitted.

"That happens with head wounds, son," Dr. Benton said from across the coach. "The confusion can make you think more days have gone by than really have."

"Dr. Benton here encouraged me to check on ya, so make sure you reserve some of your anger for him, too." Benton stared wide-eyed at the suggestion.

"I'm not angry. Too headachy and tired to be angry," he returned as he wiped his face with his hands and then ran his hands through his hair.

"Seriously, how do you feel? You haven't answered my question," Kid noted.

"Well, I did. Irritable, I think I said. But I feel somewhat better. Less dizzy, more of a bad headache."

"I could give you something for that. I have a bag up on top…"

"Nooo. Thanks. I think I'll just try to bear it," Heyes answered , the lack of trust in the physician evident in his tone.

"There's no need to be rude, sir."

"I didn't…huh…" Heyes stopped, looking thoughtful. "I guess it did kinda come off a little rude. I apologize." Kid looked worriedly over at his friend, but gave the doctor another glare.

"I think you'd be justified to be a little leery of the doc's remedy. After all, he's not a doctor any more, Joshua." Benton chose to stay quiet. "Maybe you just need to eat."

"Well, Thaddeus, you know what they say: if ya can't say nothin' nice…"

"Never mind that. Are you hungry," Kid asked, showing his own irritation.

"I am. Did you eat all of Mrs. Newberry's bread?"

"No."

"Did you eat some of it?" Heyes continued to interrogate with a knowing grin.

They stared each other down momentarily, Heyes with a widening smile, Curry without. But the Kid couldn't last long against the charms of Hannibal Heyes. "I tasted it."

Heyes laughed. "Of course you did. I think I could try some."

"Good. Here." Curry handed the sack with the bread over and then looked up at Benton. He didn't offer an apology, not verbally. But his eyes showed his regret in some of the words that had been passed. The doctor nodded, and smiled slightly in acceptance.

The stagecoach continued on. The quiet was soothing, and Kid looked out the window again, happy that Heyes seemed to have gotten at least some of his appetite back. Kid was interrupted by the doctor once again.

"Ahem, excuse me. Mister…" Benton started.

Curry looked over, seeing that the physician was looking his way. "Jones, Thaddeus Jones."

"Mr. Jones," Benton said. Then, he just cocked his head toward Heyes. Kid looked over and saw his friend, his hand in his lap holding the remnants of the bread. He had eaten quite a chunk, Kid was pleased to see. But his head was now hanging down to his chest. He'd fallen asleep eating. Kid Curry smiled. He took the rest of the bread and shoveled it in his mouth. Benton laughed lightly. Curry looked up and smiled wider.

"Can't let it go to waste," he mumbled through the chewing in explanation, clearly enjoying himself.

"No," Benton said with another chuckle.

Curry found the pillow sitting between himself and his partner. He placed it once again up against his shoulder, and then reached over and eased Heyes' head toward him, holding his friend's neck carefully so as not to jostle him too much.

"You boys seem real close," Benton observed.

"We are," Kid answered, a hint of suspicion in the words.

"I don't mean anything by it. It's…nice."

"We've been best friends all our lives." Kid stopped at that, knowing that Heyes wouldn't want him to give away too much.

"That's pretty rare, in my experience. Children remaining friends into adulthood. Unusual."

"Doesn't seem unusual to me."

"I suppose not. So, what do you fellas do when you're not hunting down cougars and playing poker?" the doctor asked. Curry knew the man was only making small talk, but he never liked having to answer these kinds of questions. The look his partner had sent him after he'd answered the judge's question during the poker game was reason enough to be more cautious in how he answered in the future. He decided to take control of the conversation.

"Does everybody know what our business was in Hollistown?"

"You killed three mountain lions in three days. That's pretty impressive."

"Yeah. Well, my friend here was a champeen tracker in Utah," Kid answered, grinning fondly at the memory of their conversation the other day, warmly mimicking Heyes' pronunciation of the descriptive.

"Plus, he was the only one who got shot that survived. He's pretty famous in our little valley." It was something that Hannibal Heyes would not be happy to hear.

"I'd call him lucky, not famous," Curry said, losing the grin quickly.

"He seemed to be coming along fine when he was awake earlier. I'm sorry if I added to your worry," Benton said apologetically.

"Nah. That's okay. I'm restin' easier knowin' that he's feelin' better. He definitely seemed better."

"Those kind of injuries usually just take time. He can use all the rest you can force down him the next couple of days."

Kid laughed. "That's an interesting way of puttin' it, 'forcing' it down," Kid repeated, "because that's exactly how he'll see it."

"I figured. But I suspect that with what Jake Carlson paid you for those kills, you shouldn't have to head out again right away." Kid Curry looked at the physician, wide-eyed. Had he just suggested that he and Heyes had been paid by Carlson to kill those men? "The cats," Benton said, noticing Kid's seeming confusion. Luckily, the doctor assumed that Curry had been distracted by thoughts of his friend when Benton added, "Seems to me that you could use some sleep yourself."

"I'm pretty tired."

"Once we get past the stop, why don't you take a rest, too. I'll keep an eye on your friend."

"No, I couldn't…"

"I'm not a drunk all the time, you know. I'm pretty sober just about now. This heat'll sober any man up."

"Can't argue with that."

"You shouldn't argue with the rest, either. Even a light doze will probably help."

"I appreciate the offer. I just don't know that I can. Not exactly used to sleeping when I need to be on alert for my partner. Besides, and I don't mean to scare ya, but we don't exactly have the best luck riding stagecoaches."

"What's that mean?" Benton asked worriedly.

"Well, we been held up more than once while riding the stage."

"How many more than once?"

"Twice."

"Well, that's…um…well…"

"Bad luck."

"It is bad luck," the doctor reluctantly agreed.

"Yep. Sorry."

"Well, Mr. Jones, that doesn't mean it's going to happen again. And it's certainly unlikely that it'll happen on this trip," August Benton insisted.

"Why would you say that?" Kid asked, curious.

"Because this next stretch is rough territory."

"I hate to tell you this, Dr. Benton, but that is exactly the kind of territory that robbers seem to like best."

"Is that right? You know this from?"

"Experience."

Benton nodded his head. "I guess we'll just have to hope that fate gives you two, and me, a break this trip."

"We haven't gotten much of a break so far this trip," Kid said, looking down at Heyes again.

"He's alive, son. And he's getting better. And you bagged yourself three cougars."

"And we both lost in poker and watched four men get buried," Curry countered.

"You're not the kind of man who looks at the glass as half full, are you?"

"Nope. That would be my partner who sees things that way. I'd say I'm more of a pessimist."

"It's good that you have your friend to help balance that out."

"I think you've got a bit of the philosopher in you, Dr. Benton," Kid commented as the stage began to slow down."

"No. Just lived a lot of years, that's all." Kid Curry thought that the man couldn't be more than five or six years older than Heyes, though he carried the years as though he was another ten, maybe fifteen years older. He had indeed led a hard life. "Looks like we've made the halfway point."

"And that's always a good thing," Hannibal Heyes said.

"You're awake," Kid said happily.

"Felt the stage slowin' down." Kid looked at his friend and frowned, shaking his head. "I can't help it."

"You gentlemen are an amusing pair," August Benton said as he rose from his seat. He chuckled as he took the step down, but fell back suddenly into the carriage and across Heyes and Curry's legs with a startled 'whoomph'. Kid leaned over to pull the door shut, aware of the immediate danger, though the doctor's feet stopped him from shutting it all the way, and then he pushed his partner back against the seat, his gun drawn. Heyes had begun to lean down to check on Benton, but his slower than usual response time had already given Curry the chance to see what Heyes had not yet seen.

"Don't bother. He's dead."

"What the hell's goin' on?" Heyes asked.

"Come on out, Mr. Jones. Bring your friend."

"A woman?" Heyes whispered.

"Not just any woman," Kid replied quietly.

"You recognize her voice?" Curry's partner asked. Kid gave his answer with just one brief nod of assent. Heyes closed his eyes and then rubbed his forehead, his hand a little shaky; Kid knew it had little to do with their stage being shot at, or the fact that he had recognized the voice of the shooter. He ignored what he was watching, for now, because he knew his cousin would want him to. Plus, what was going on outside would require all of his attention for the next while.

"Helen?" Kid called.

"Come on, Mr. Jones. Out of the coach. Oh, and before you do, why don't you and Mr. Smith toss your guns out the window."

"Do I know her, Kid?" Heyes asked in curiosity and confusion, and with not a little concern.

"No you don't, Heyes. She's one of the few women in Hollistown that you didn't charm."

"Apparently you weren't teeming with luck in that department yourself."

"I thought I'd done better," Curry admitted worriedly. "I'm gonna try to sneak a peek to see if she's got her any back-up."

"You can't think she'd be doin' this on her own?"

"Well, partner, you haven't met Helen."

"Mr. Jones? Mr. Smith?" the driver called. "Would you please step out?" Heyes and Curry ignored him for the moment. Kid tried to look through the open window, but a gunshot forced him back, and forced down the leather curtain at the same time.

"Mr. Jones. I killed Dr. Benton, and he's not the one I want. Please get out of the stagecoach. Bring Mr. Smith with you."

"Hey Kid. Why does she know me when I don't know her?" Heyes asked, his expression perplexed to say the least.

"Turns out you're mighty popular in Hollistown, what with gettin' shot and survivin' and all."

"Ah." Heyes watched his partner a moment longer and then said calmly, "She seems pretty serious, Kid."

"Yes. Yes she does."

"What'd you do to her? I thought you were busy lookin' into the murders."

"I was. I did. She, well, she gave me some information."

"Willingly?"

"That's what I thou…what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Kid asked indignantly.

"You know. Maybe she was seduced by your charms out of information she didn't really want to give." Kid looked at him and then rolled his eyes. "Can't say it'd be the first time."

"Seemed willingly given at the time," Curry replied as another bullet flew through the carriage.

"Think we oughta do what she says, Kid."

"I suspect." Kid put his hand out to his partner, who pulled his gun from its holster and handed it over. "I'm throwin' the guns out now!"

"Good. Now, come on out, nice and slow," Helen ordered.

Heyes and Curry left the relative safety of the stagecoach and walked out into the open. They couldn't believe what they saw. Helen, alone, with a fancy six shooter pointed at them. She hadn't had time to reload, and three shots had already been used. Kid thought it, and he was sure his partner had worked that out, too. That didn't mean that either of them had a plan for getting out of this predicament.

Yet.

Kid heard a groan next to him. He turned to see Heyes standing there, his eyes shut tight.

"Forgot your hat?" Kid asked.

"Yep." Curry shook his head and turned to the woman with the gun.

"Helen. Do you mind if I go back in and get my partner his hat?"

"Why? Do you really think he's gonna need it?" Heyes and Curry looked at each other, frowning. Kid turned back to Helen with the answer as Heyes closed his eyes once more. He swayed just a little before the Kid placed his hand on his shoulder, grounding him for the moment.

"I'm hopin' what we got here is just a misunderstanding, Helen, so yeah, I do think he'll need it."

"Fine. Go ahead. But just be sure that's all you bring out." She cocked her weapon and pointed it at Heyes.

"Miss?" the reforming outlaw said as his partner left his side. "I don't believe we've met." He opened his eyes and squinted at the pretty woman in the distance as she stood just short of the right side wall of the post's main building. The sun was setting behind him, making Helen squint, too. He kept that in mind as he willed his aching head to come up with some way out of this. He started to walk towards her, but she aimed the gun down and shot into the ground, so near his left foot that Heyes was sure he felt the breeze through his boot as the bullet skidded away.

And now she was down to no more than two bullets.

"Hey…Joshua! What are you doin'?" Kid yelled, catching himself on his cousin's real surname. Angry at himself and at Heyes at the moment, he slapped the black hat down, harder than necessary, onto his partner's head.

"Ouch! I was just introducing myself to the lady is all," Heyes explained.

"I already told you. Her name's Helen."

"What, just Helen? Most people have last names, Thaddeus."

"Bishop," the woman aiming the gun offered.

Heyes and Curry looked at one another, a sickening realization coming to them both at the same time. They turned to Helen and asked together, "Bishop?"

"That's right, Jones. Bishop. Helen Bishop."

Kid Curry squinted his eyes and cocked his head at the stunning redhead. Even in her riding gear she possessed a beauty and a self-assurance that he found appealing. He'd found her mesmerizing the other night. That was of course before, when he was desperate to find out information about who had shot his partner. But this woman was a killer; she wasn't quite so attractive anymore.

"You…you're Helen _Bishop_?" Kid asked.

"Yep."

He pointed at her. "As in Harvey…"

"Bishop," she finished.

"That would make you and Harvey…" he continued, though she cut him off again.

"Very close," she answered.

"So you weren't…"

"Uh-uh," Helen said.

"What's goin' on, Kid? It's like you're talkin' in code."

"Jones here thought that my brother and I were an item."

"That's what I heard," Kid explained. "That's what you said," he added, frustration seeping through at the knowledge that nothing he said now would help him defend himself properly in her eyes. Also, she had killed a man today, cold-blooded, right before _their_ eyes. Kid knew that he and his partner were lucky so far to still be breathing and talking. The fact that he had done nothing to precipitate Harvey Bishop's death seemed of little consequence to the disturbed woman standing before him.

"Harvey and I planted whatever stories we had to in order to get the job done."

"The job?" Heyes asked. "What job?"

"Whatever the job was, Mr. Smith," Helen answered calmly.

"And what was the job this time?" Heyes asked for both himself and the Kid, who'd suddenly come up oddly speechless. But maybe not so strange, Heyes thought. By the looks of him, it seemed it was now dawning on Kid Curry that he'd recently bedded a murderer. Heyes carefully eyed his partner, seeing in his eyes what he, too, now knew: Helen and Harvey Bishop were criminals who had done far worse things than Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry ever thought to do. And _her_ partner was now dead.

And they would be, too, if they didn't think of something. Fast.

"Forgive me, I got shot earlier this week…" Helen interrupted him as he pointed up to the bruise on his head.

"I know."

"Ah, yes. I guess you would. I can see from the way you're dressed and the way you handle that gun that you might have been pretty helpful to your brother." She smiled at him when she saw the realization come to his handsome face. "Or maybe you didn't help him at all. I mean…maybe you did some of the shootin'?" Heyes asked, losing any hint of the smile he'd tried to force earlier, and not really expecting any confession from the pretty, and apparently lethal lady.

"All you need to know right now is I know how to use this gun."

"That was evident from the way you hit your target with the doctor," Heyes noted. He also noted how terribly quiet his partner remained.

"He's not a doctor anymore, but he was a sloppy, drunk pig. I won't lose any sleep over killing him," she said, her attitude seeming to change in the utterance of that last sentence. Her eyes seemed to grow darker, her face harder, her beauty no longer so clear.

"I am correct in assuming that you blame my partner for the death of your brother?"

"You like to talk, don't ya?" she asked. Her tone had grown bitter.

"Well, I…"

"Shut up!" she demanded.

"Helen…" Heyes tried, hoping to use his considerable charm and verbal acumen to keep her calm and to keep her from firing the gun anymore. She was aiming right for the Kid's heart. Again. With the driver quiet up on the stage, and the people who ran this post nowhere to be seen, it seemed to Heyes the best plan would be to keep her talking and keep her from using that gun any further for as long as possible.

She turned the gun from the Kid to Heyes. She grit her teeth as she snarled, "I said shut up."

"Helen." The voice came from behind and to the right of Helen Bishop. Startled, she looked toward where the mention of her name had come from. Heyes recognized the voice and also realized it was his best opportunity to try to disarm her, despite the fact that the gun was cocked and he risked both his life and his partner's in doing what he'd planned to do next. He grabbed for her gun. Unfortunately, he was slower to move than he thought – the sun, the headache, which was pounding in his skull to the beat of his now rapid heartbeat, and his general weak state – all of those things were conspiring against him. Helen held tight to the gun with her right hand, her left hand lashing out as she scratched her nails about the dark outlaw's eyes. The sting of the nails' cuts, and trying to lean away from any more of them, and his surprise that she had fought so dirty, threw him off balance, just enough for Helen to shove him hard in the knee with the solid heel of her boot. Heyes fell to the ground, both of his knees hitting the packed earth with a dusty thud.

Helen backed up a step, looking for Curry, her gun cocked. Kid had hesitated just enough in going to his partner's aid, just a fraction of a second, shocked to stillness by what he'd been hearing. He looked Helen in the eyes, thinking that either he or his best friend would lose their life in that shortened second, and then he heard the crack of a rifle. His eyes went down to the redhead's hand, where he saw the gun slip from aiming at his chest and fall from her fingers. He looked up to find Helen Bishop's dead eyes, her life fading as the blood began oozing from her mouth. She fell lifelessly to the ground at Kid Curry's feet.

Heyes, still on the ground, turned to see Jake Carlson, his rifle still smoking, walking towards him. Sheriff Moody followed, his gun drawn.

Jake kneeled down in front of Heyes as Moody went to check on Helen.

"Joshua? Are you all right?" the rancher asked as he put his hand on the downed man's shoulder.

Heyes blinked a couple of times. His exertions with Helen had left him dazed and weak. "I…um…I've, uh, had better days, Mr. Carlson." He paused for a moment and wiped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve. And then worry set in. He turned quickly toward his partner and called, "Thaddeus!" And then everything seemed to be spinning. "Whoa."

"Take it easy, Joshua," Jake said as he helped the still-healing man down to a prone position on the ruddy ground. "We should get him inside," Carlson said to no one in particular.

"No, I need…"

"I'm right here, Joshua," Kid said.

"You're okay?" Heyes asked.

"It's been a lousy day, but I'll be fine. You don't look so good."

"You're sure you're all right? Helen…"

Sheriff Moody knelt down next to the other three men. "Helen Maxwell…"

"Bishop," Kid interrupted. Though he spoke to the sheriff, his eyes kept hold of his partner's. His meaning was clear: he was fine, or at least he would be, was the assurance conveyed in just one look. And then that look changed, ever so slightly, and offered up a silent 'thanks'.

"What?" Moody and Carlson asked.

"Her last name is really Bishop. She was Harvey Bishop's sister."

"That explains a lot, Jake," Moody said to his friend.

"Yeah, it does. Let's get these boys and the driver inside. Get 'em a cool drink. Find out what happened to the folks running this post."

"You bet," Sheriff Moody agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd found the couple and their teenaged son who minded the stop tied and gagged inside the main building. Curry and the driver were on their second cool glass of water, mugs of beer waiting for them next. Heyes, having finished a long drink of water, was lying down on a cot and trying his best to keep the water he'd just finished and Jenny Newberry's bread in his stomach where it belonged.

"So Helen came after you this morning?" Kid asked, astonished that she would be so bold, and amazed that she'd managed to make it to the post and corral he and Heyes as well. And so easily. Maybe they were losing their touch while they tried to go for the governor's amnesty deal.

"It was early afternoon, way out, up on the top forty. She's a damn fine shot," Jake said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Was," Sheriff Moody reminded.

"Yes. She held us down for some time. Shot two of my men. They'll both be fine. She knew as soon as it seemed the tide was turning against her. Rode off like a Pony Express rider."

"She carried no fear," the driver noted.

"Didn't think she had anything to lose," the sheriff surmised. "After so many men witnessed what she did up at Jake's spread…"

"Well, I'm sorry that she got away and came after you boys," Jake said.

"Joe and Jenny said they saw her stop at the stagecoach office and then shot out of town like a bat out of hell," Moody went on.

"I came straight to town to let the sheriff know what happened, and found Joe and Jenny tellin' him their story," Jake took up re-telling what had gone on earlier. "Joe said she was raving your name, Thaddeus."

"The damage had already been done before we even showed up at your place that first day. I think she just went crazy once her brother was gone," Kid said. He spoke with his head to the floor, but then he raised his eyes to look at his partner. Heyes gave him a compassionate look. Curry offered a thin smile, trying to silently tell his cousin that he really would be okay. And hearing Jake's story was starting to convince them both that maybe they weren't losing their touch after all. Helen Bishop had been a tough adversary for them all, her feminine wiles hiding something far stronger, deeper, darker than the package on the outside led anyone to believe. It seemed, in hindsight, that Helen was the brains and a surprisingly large part of the muscle of that pair.

"Looks like now we gotta go back to Hollistown eventually, Thaddeus, if for nothin' else but to thank the Newberrys proper," Heyes said with a more genuine smile.

"I'll tell you this: Rachel will be upset with you two if you only come back for that. She took quite a shine to both of you," Jake said, his tone warm.

"I'm sorry, fellas, but we gotta get this stage movin' again. It's gonna be near two hours late as it is," the post manager explained apologetically.

"Do you need a hand up?" Kid asked Heyes.

"No, I do not. I been gettin' myself up outta bed all by myself since I was little." Jake, Moody and Curry watched with smiles on their faces and shakes of their heads as Heyes struggled up to a sitting position on the rickety cot.

"Stubborn," Jake commented wryly.

"Explains why he survived that gunshot," Sheriff Moody added.

"Come on," Kid said, offering his hand to his cousin. "Let me help you up the rest of the way."

"Thanks, partner."

They all walked out to the stagecoach. The heat had dissipated some; the rest of the ride would be far more comfortable for them; it was the least Mother Nature could do considering the day they'd had so far.

"It's a shame about Doc Benton," the sheriff said as he shook Heyes and Curry's hands. There was no evidence on the stagecoach that a man had been shot dead in it, for which both former Devil's Hole Gang members were grateful.

"In more ways than one, sheriff," Jake noted.

"He seemed like a decent fella," Kid commented, regretting the unpleasant exchanges between himself and the doctor. He was glad that they'd come to a sort of understanding, in the end, even if he hadn't verbalized an apology to the man as Heyes had.

"When he wasn't drinking, he was," Jake testified sadly.

Moody shook his head. "That wasn't often, lately. I've had him in a cell cooling off at least once a week for some time now."

"Hopefully he's at peace." Jake turned to Heyes and Curry. "I'm sorry, this isn't exactly the send-off we wanted to give you boys."

"It's not your fault, Mr. Carlson," Heyes said, his weariness showing through the crooked smile he offered.

"I hope this doesn't put you off comin' back to our valley again sometime," Jake said, the invitation to return seeming genuine, heartfelt.

"It might not be soon, Mr. Carlson, but I'm sure we'll be back someday. Hollistown has been right hospitable to us," the Kid replied.

"Except for bein' shot at and held hostage," Sheriff Moody said with a grin.

"Except for that," Heyes smiled back.

Jake Carlson shook their hands and then Heyes and Curry stepped into the stagecoach, each taking a seat opposite the other, Heyes facing forward. They waved goodbye as the stage took off, and then looked at each other carefully.

"You look tired."

"So do you."

"Move over," Kid said as he picked up the pillow and then sat in his previous seat. "Let's get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan," Heyes said as he laid his head on the hand-made pillow, his partner holding it in place until he was settled comfortably. Kid leaned back into the seat, his head tilted slightly toward his partner.

Heyes spoke softly. "Kid, our luck ain't been so good. For the rest of this ride, what do you think the chances are…"

"I thought I was the pessimist in this partnership."

"Oh, you are, Kid. I'm just sayin'…"

"Heyes?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

The End.


End file.
